Fifteen Pairings
by Byoshi
Summary: You serve up dinner with the staff when you're not supposed to; you talk to R.O.B. even though you can't understand him. You fail to distinguish between heroes and villains, and overlook that we're only here to fight.' :Snake x Peach:
1. Snake x Zelda

**A/N: And here we are with my LiveJournal fics for the challenge of writing fifteen pairings for a fandom. Well, the fandom's obviously Smash Bros, but the pairings are not clear cut as of yet. I have some slots left for requests, but have a read of this chapter to see if you even like my romance one shots for non-FalSam pairings before requesting :P Of course, there are some no go pairings, but more about that later.**

**For now, enjoy this chapter. I had great fun writing it. Behold, Byoshi's first attempt at writing Snake!**

**Disclaimer: All characters and settings are copyright to Nintendo or Konami. Only the writing belongs to me :)**

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**F I F T E E N**

**P A I R I N G S:**

_.:. No. 2 - Secrets .:._

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**o-o-SNAKE X ZELDA-o-o**

Snake was looking for signal. He always was at this time of day.

Tapping into the codec device, his face grew a few more frustrated lines for every attempt. He walked in circles, positioned the radio high and low, but no avail. With a striking resemblance to that of a lost traveller, Snake looked at everything in his view, hoping that something would help him, before giving up and putting the device away.

Finally.

After all, his clunky footsteps and faint mutterings were starting to irritate her. She wanted nothing more than a moment of peace. And so, straightening her back to look as dignified as possible, she called across the table.

"Why not try another time, Snake? Or somewhere else?"

"The signal was right here yesterday. Right here." He stood a metre away, a spot which was apparently meaningful. His shadow fell onto the table, and she watched it slide across her arm and book. "But it's gone. It takes me longer to find a bleedin' signal than it does to make the call. Too much interference, see."

She smiled at the word, and he seemed to notice. He quirked his eyebrow; she returned it.

"Have you ever thought that you might be interference? Your ceaseless efforts to try and get that thing working are interfering with my afternoon of reading."

A shadowy look crossed his face, and then his eyes lit up. "Got it! You're Zelda, aren't you? The smart one."

She was surprised. For someone who made a point of never mingling with others, it was impressive he could put her name to her face. His compliment was laced with what could have been admiration, but she put it down to sarcasm.

"That's correct, Snake. And this is the library. I'm trying to read."

"Really? I had the feeling you were trying to look like you were reading when all the while, you were watching me."

He shrugged nonchalantly, and Zelda grudgingly felt her respect for him grow. Despite his obvious tendency to only communicate with people outside, he was shockingly observant. Then again, rumours had filtered through the Mansion about Snake. That he was a mercenary, and a good one at that. His calculative mind, though not on par with Mewtwo, gave him the upper hand in many matches; his display of strength made even Ganondorf nod his head in begrudged approval.

They had exchanged smiles of acknowledgment and quick waves many times before. However, Zelda had only ever spoken to him twice. The first time, he had asked for directions to the laundry. The second time, he wanted to know how to apply for the fifteen minute Brawl. On both occasions, he had left her bewildered and confused. Given his remarkable skill, did he really need to ask for directions, or check protocol? What kind of mercenary asked the simplest of questions when he most likely knew the answers anyway?

And what kind of dignified princess found a haggard lone wolf so fascinating?

He slumped into the seat opposite, an unreadable expression on his face, an unknown reason for sitting with her. The enigma he carried with him and left behind...perhaps that was what interested her. Zelda, the smart one, always looking for clarity and answers, was stumped by this ragged man.

She twisted her nose to mask her enthrallment at the smell of peppermint and cigarettes; she gave him a perfected deadpan look to hide the smile wanting to break out. Oh yes, she was going to be 'oblivious' to all that, like always.

"What's the matter?" she asked him, trying to sound offhand.

Snake didn't answer straightaway. He pulled out a small cardboard packet and flipped it over, reading the back. Unaffected by the health warnings on there, he took out a cigarette and twirled it round his fingers like a baton. She wondered how he could make it look so easy.

"Question," he said, taking out the codec device once more. "Why do all electronics go haywire in this Mansion? This radio, for example?"

Another silly question, Zelda thought. He had better not make this a habit. If Snake had paid attention to Master Hand's welcoming speech, he would have found out that the Mansion was not capable of catering to every world. People and devices were going to be affected by the clash of modern technology and ancient magic.

"...This Mansion throws logic out of the window. Expect things to not go as planned." She turned a page of her book, only realising afterwards that she hadn't registered a single word. "Or, it may just be Mewtwo playing games with you."

He wasn't satisfied with her answer. Snake brought the cigarette to his mouth and clamped his lips over it, fumbling for a lighter. In a moment of self-indulgence, Zelda considered using Din's Fire to light that cigarette and accidentally-on-purpose, singe that ugly beard as well. However, she took her usual route of virtue, coughed lightly and outstretched a hand.

"Popo and Nana are reading just around the corner. I won't have you smoke around them."

And like a schoolboy who had just been caught eating sweets in class, Snake sighed and handed over the guilty item. "There you go."

She set it down on her book, and watched it roll into the nook in the middle of the open pages. There, it wobbled from left to right before coming to a complete halt and taking away Zelda's reason to look at it. With no cigarette to smoke or even chew on, Snake resorted to his radio to channel his fidgeting. Zelda gave the device an unimpressed look, so that her fascination with it wouldn't show through.

"It's instant with that, isn't it?" she said. "Communicating with people. I have to wait a week for my letter to reach my father, and wait another one for his reply."

"That blows," he remarked fervently, but a sharp glint in her eyes told him he had said the wrong thing.

"No, it doesn't actually." She tried to cross one leg over the other, however, one of his heels rested on the hem of her dress and prevented her from doing so. "Waiting adds value. To wait so long for something makes that end result all the more special. Patience is a virtue, Snake."

"Patience is just suppressed impatience."

And to make up for the silence that now followed, he nudged the radio forwards, asking her wordlessly to take it and examine it for herself. But she declined, deciding that seeing it was enough. It was a very complex box, dotted with grey buttons and a flickering screen. It almost looked alive. One time, Fox had tried to explain to her the technicalities of electronic communications, but she could only simplify it to fit her world. A signal acted like a postman, a necessity for two people to connect, just faster.

Such a handy item didn't deserve to be doubted or frowned upon; such a decent man didn't deserve her derision. But that was what escaped from her, in the form of curling lips and stony eyes.

"Does it scare you?" he asked suddenly.

Another stupid question, Zelda noted. Surely this was intentional. Why would she be afraid of a radio? But when Snake elaborated, she found he wasn't being so stupid after all. In fact, he was deadly accurate.

"Not knowing, I mean. Radios, electricity...people, even. Does it scare you? Not having knowledge or facts to fall back on. Just guesswork."

She stared at him, but didn't give into those dark eyes yet. Yes, she wanted to tell him. She was brought up to scrutinise and make decisions based on facts, to leave no room for mystery or as Snake put it, guesswork. It frightened her, in the bizarre sense that it made her feel unsafe; at the same time, it was what drew her to him.

"It might do," she answered vaguely.

He sighed, leaning forwards across the table. Peppermint skipped across the gap between them, dancing around her nostrils and becoming dangerously familiar and comforting.

"I thought as much. For someone as uptight and smart as you, realising you don't have the answer to everything can be daunting."

Very accurate. She couldn't find a clever retort. She could only say, "...I'm not uptight."

This was, Zelda decided resolutely, entirely her fault. She had let her guard down around him, shown her wariness but growing interest of the modern technology and ultimately, him. His mystery, the secrets he held...it all intrigued her, and he knew it. He was probably aware of how often she stared at him, and how every time he tried to make contact, she'd pretend to be unaffected. Wear the mask of an ice queen and fool them both.

That mask was long gone. He probably saw through it right from the beginning. She had never been good at concealing her curiosity.

Snake picked up the radio, jiggled it a little and made it bow like a person. "...Codec says he's sorry for not being good enough for you."

It was a pathetic attempt at a joke to make her forget how easily he had insulted her. Nevertheless, a smile worked its way onto her face, although it was only for a second or so. She thought she saw him return it, but a lot of him remained in shadow as he sunk back into his seat.

"I need signal," he said after a moment. Getting to his feet, he tossed the radio from one hand to the other. Zelda stood up, although the reason for doing so wouldn't come to her.

"Here." He threw the radio, and she caught it in cupped hands. "Want to help? I could do with it."

Yes please! her heart screamed.

"...I don't think I'd be much help," she answered instead. Snake didn't express any disappointment. He merely strode over to stand opposite her.

"I'll take that then." He reached for the radio, but Zelda couldn't recall if he ever did get it. Her fingers had gone numb as soon as his thumb scraped them; peppermint paralysed her and swiftly blew away any rational thoughts she had.

Would he mind if she tried to kiss him? He was just there, after all. Right there, in front of her. Exactly what she wanted.

Instantaneous. Like codecs, like _him_, she could get what she wanted, right when she wanted it...

Her lips brushed against his rough cheek and beard. He moved back, but not before she felt him grin. He seemed to look a bit brighter, less scruffy, as though elegance came with every gradual revelation she made of him.

"Patience is a virtue," he quipped, radio in hand. "Waiting adds value to the end result. I learned that today."

And with suppressed impatience, Zelda watched him turn on his heel and go. He had left her with all his secrets in tact, and hers, completely and utterly exposed.

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**E N D **

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**A/N: I have never played Metal Gear Solid - let's just get that clear. I typically think of Snake as a mysterious, cool guy who's super-technical and smart. I'm not sure how fitting that is to his character, so this one shot may be pretty horrendous for all I know. In any case, I'm pretty pleased with it, but really, that's for you to decide.**

**If you have any thoughts you'd like to share on this, please do. I'd appreciate some feedback. Also, if you have any request pairings, give us a bell. In a nutshell, I will write any het pairing so long as it's not RoyxPeach or involving Pit or Sonic. Please also bear in mind I might not be able to fulfil your request, due to limited slots. **

**Anyhoo, that's about all I have to say, except for happy Friday 13th! Thanks for reading, please review and see ya next time!**


	2. Link x Samus

**A/N: I got four requests for this pairing. Four! In all honesty, I can't see the attraction of LinkxSamus or how it's feasible, but I had a good time writing this nonetheless. It was pretty hard, thinking of a situation for them (my update time proves this), and I've never even thought about this pairing before. With all that in mind, please understand that this is my take on Link and Samus, and might be different from the general view of this pairing. I decided to go for several scenes, and a different style too.**

**To the people who requested this and every other reader - I hope you like it :)**

**Disclaimer: All characters and settings are copyright to Nintendo. Only the writing belongs to me :)**

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**F I F T E E N**

**P A I R I N G S:**

.:. _No. 12 – Oblivious_ .:.

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**o-o-LINK X SAMUS-o-o**

On the **Monday** morning of the Tournament Opening Ceremony, I turned up three hours early. I waited in the grounds, having nothing but the chilly autumn wind for company. Bits of scaffolding and cement sacks were dotted around me; the dirt path I stood on had muddy footprints of builders who had come and gone. I thought about following them, wondering if they would take me away from the cold.

The building up ahead was unlike any I had seen before. It seemed austere in its majesty, as opposed to the grand castle of welcome I compared it to.

"You're very eager, aren't you?" A Toad stopped in his tracks, clipboard in hand. "Now, tell me. Are you a Smasher – if so, take out your proof – or a Sponsor or guest?"

I stuffed my hand into my pocket and scooped up its contents. In my haste, several Rupees slipped through my fingers, and the Toad turned his attention to them, only giving the proof I had ready a sidelong glance.

"Ah! You must be from Hyrule!" he guessed correctly. "It's been a tiring journey, no? Well, there's no point lingering out here. I'm sure you will have noticed that it's freezing in these parts. Mushroom Kingdom doesn't have the warm autumns you have. Now get inside."

"I've already tried the door," I said. "It's locked."

Once again, the Toad halted in his tracks, and I heard him utter, "Hyrule!" before he continued too cheerily. "Nonsense, son! The proof you received is your ID card. It's also your key to getting around the Mansion."

I turned the card over in my hands, feeling the embossed letters that spelled my name. The Toad snatched it, flipped it round and pointed to a black strip on its back.

"Swipe card," he said slowly, although that didn't make it any clearer for me. "That's a magstripe there. Swipe it through the reader and the door will open. Make sure it's facing this way."

On my third attempt, the doors finally opened. I leapt backwards when they did so of their own accord, and I probably would have stayed outside, on the alert, if the warmth wasn't so inviting. I followed the signs that directed Smashers to their waiting room, and I drew a mental map of the place. Not only did I make notes of its layout, I made to remember locations of interesting, unusual objects that I would want to take a closer look at.

And that was how I entered the room where she waited, poking at a strange switch and suddenly turning everything dark, bathed in the natural light I recognised. When I flicked the switch back, light burst from a decorative chandelier. Green spots danced in front of me as I stared too long. I switched the light back off.

In my enthrallment, I didn't notice the metallic monster – the only way I could describe her at the time – until she marched past me. For every step she took, the walls and the floor shuddered and the light tinkled. She flipped the switch back and made a point of suggesting I keep it there. Her giant metal hand lingered on it, but a tinny stream of noises escaped from her, and I wondered if it was a laugh.

**x**

**Tuesday** was a bit of a blur. The influx of residents filled me with unease and nerves, and I was never sure who to strike up a conversation with and more importantly, what to talk about. Fragments of gossip and the latest topics caught my ear, but they made little sense.

There were also many rules to follow – a code of conduct and order we all had to know by heart. Our leader explained to us that this tournament was a tryout for bigger things to come, and he expected utmost cooperation from the Smashers and the agents who picked them. My agent was a wizened man with past affiliations with Hyrule. He knew who I was, and suggested I make better use of my talents by joining this tournament.

"Might as well show the world the hero you are, not spend the rest of your days feeding Cuccos," he said.

So far, however, I had only taken refuge in my new room, taking a ridiculous amount of time to unpack my bags. I realised I had brought so much with me, and there was not enough space to keep it all. I deliberately turned this into a dilemma, so that it stayed on my mind and kept me occupied.

In all honesty, I was used to a solitary life. I was not, on the other hand, used to feeling on my own when there were people all around. By the time I accepted this fact, she knocked it out of me as she burst inside my room, the rounded head tucked under an arm. For a second, I thought she was headless, but I noticed the blue eyes and scruffy blonde hair soon enough.

"We counted eleven Smashers. Mario is rallying for team spirit at dinners," she said, and I was surprised at the deepness of her voice. Moreover, I was shocked that she was not a metallic beast, but a person. She caught me staring, and she returned the favour, taking in the tunic that had lasted me years, the unpolished boots and worn gloves.

At her great height (for I now stood in her shadow), she said to me, "It's a power suit. Where you come from, you may call it armour."

"…I had no idea," I replied.

"That's because you're very behind with the times," she responded, and there was an unmistakable tone of scorn in her voice. "Where are you from? Altea? Hyrule?"

"Hyrule," I said, wondering vaguely where Altea was.

"They must have entered you as a joke," she grumbled. "You're too out-of-date to even stand a chance. A farm boy."

"I'm not out-of-date, and Hyrule isn't behind with the times," I protested, but my defence cracked from my own lack of belief in it. "I'm not a farm boy either. I'm…I'm Link," I finished.

She gave a tiny smile and raised an eyebrow. "I'm Samus."

**x**

Our first matches began on **Wednesday**, and I managed to attain not just victories (although I reeled in delight from them) but scraps of knowledge.

"Basically, your 'magic' is our 'electricity'."

I had gathered by now that Samus was aloof, frank and selective with her companions. For reasons I could not yet fathom, she was always surprisingly warm to me.

"It's not quite the same concept, but it's a good place to start. Your world is governed by magic, it thrives on it. You have not advanced to discovering electricity or the technology it will go on to create, and will probably attribute the hi-tech things here to magic – unconsciously or otherwise."

Samus gave a smile of kindly scorn (which I was beginning to realise was her only smile) and added, "On the other hand, we've long forgotten the art of magic. Any we do witness we'll dismiss as a hoax or a trick of the light. To us, magic is a myth. Is this the spot? You've stopped."

We had crossed the long stretch of grounds to the lake. My boots were slippery from the morning dew; Samus' metal feet had picked up clumps of mown grass like pollen stuck to a bee. The mist swam round my knees as I dropped down the bank. I cast my fishing rod into the water, and rings wrinkled the still surface, awakening it.

"I hope I catch something," I said, and I really was hoping. I thought she had mistaken me for someone else when she tagged along with me this morning. I felt she was testing me, seeing how I would react. Now, more than ever, I wanted to show her I wasn't as archaic as she thought I was.

After my first catch (a common carp), I passed the rod over to her. She eyed me warily, and made to rub the back of her neck. Without warning, her armour dissolved and shrunk into nothingness. If I didn't know any better, it melted into her.

"That's very advanced," I remarked fervently, and a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

"It is, but it's got nothing to with electricity."

With her permission, I showed her how to cast, although my mind was not on the fishing. She was athletic, to say the least, in her form fitting outfit. I did want to ask her why she spent so much of her time in her armour, when she was at obvious ease without it. But, afraid she'd be offended or she'd leave me, I refrained. Instead, I talked relentlessly about fish, hearing her laugh at one of my accidents with them.

When our arms grew heavy and the fog smothered us into tiredness, I realised I wanted to hear her laugh again.

**x**

On **Thursday**, Samus introduced me to Falcon.

I had seen him in matches, passed him in corridors, but I never would have guessed he'd be the one I'd be at odds with. He was funny, witty and far from out-of-date.

His first words to me were, "So Samus told me you're from Hyrule…is that right?"

He said my Kingdom's name with mingled curiosity and disbelief, as though I was lying. It was so unlike what I was used to, the commanding respect Hyrule's name signified, the one word everyone knew, from Gorons to Redeads.

"That's right. It's quite a long way from here."

"I bet it's quite a change," he said, and his eyes shone from the same teasing as Samus' did. He even dressed like her, stood like her with a helmet tucked under an arm. I had never minded how bizarre I must look with Samus, until I saw it for myself.

The three of us were reflected in a floor length window of the main hall. I had just done a target run with Samus, and met Falcon on the way back. Cloudy skies tainted my reflection's face and its eyes stared back, almost unrecognisable. Samus was a head taller than me; Falcon stood a few centimetres on top of that. Light from above danced across their suits whenever they moved in the slightest. My tunic was fraying at the edges and when I picked at it, I managed to pull out a loose thread.

Samus and Falcon were talking about hunting, and I listened with patience. They admired the other's achievements, found faults and points to disagree on and laughed about it afterwards.

"We hunt people," Falcon explained. "People who need to be locked up. It's more of a hobby for me, but Samus has an immense reputation."

Samus brushed off the compliment, snorting derisively. Yet she laughed, and I was dismayed to see she wasn't smiling at me.

"So what do you do?" Falcon's interest sounded genuine, so I treated him with the truth – or at least, the part I was happy to reveal.

"I feed Cuccos."

He stared, and only managed to say, "Huh," in response. Samus brought it up when Falcon left, and to my astonishment, she rolled her eyes, flicked one of my ears and hissed, "Liar!"

"What do you mean? That is what I was doing before I came here. Over in Kakariko village, there's this--"

"What were you doing before all that, Link?" Samus interrupted. "Not going round saving Hyrule, I hope, mighty Hero of Time."

She smiled at my stunned silence. "Another thing you should learn about technology. It gives you an infinite number of contacts and resources."

**x**

On **Friday**, tiredness caught up with us, and time seemed to slow down. She was exhausted from the match-filled day, her mind numbed by the cheers of the public. The day was nothing like we had expected – we had been spurred on, shouted at, pestered by our agents and a grumpy Master Hand.

"It's been a long day," I said, and she gave a low hum in sleepy agreement. She took a minute to select a cushion, and then she settled onto the sofa next to me. I couldn't ignore the aroma of honey and jasmine that overwhelmed my senses.

"What are you doing?" Samus asked.

"Counting my money. Not in a greedy…miserly way," I added hastily. "They have a different currency here, so I'm totalling them and taking them over to Master Hand tomorrow."

"Our very own bureau de change," she remarked. "Can I see?"

I tipped a few into her hand. The Rupees slid across her fingers into her other hand; for a few minutes, she just stared at them.

"This is currency?" She sounded admiring, which caught me by surprise.

"They're not that fascinating," I said. "In fact, those green ones are worth very little by themselves…"

The Rupees jangled against each other, flipping and turning, mirroring Samus' thoughts. When she gave them back, they were warm from her hand. I held one up, and when positioned just right, I could see one side of her face in it.

"Funny how no one finds their own world fascinating," she replied. I watched her mouth move in the Rupee, witnessed in the reflection the slow craning of her neck. A blonde tress slid onto my shoulder.

We both smiled at the statement, finding some truth in it. She was as fascinated about me as I was about her. Perhaps to her, my shabby clothes were a mark of gallantry and not peasantry. Perhaps to me, her frankness and detachment were a reason to listen, not to run.

"Funny," I repeated. "I think it's natural to be oblivious of what's around you all the time."

"Too used to it; too blind to it. Looking, but not seeing." She outstretched her legs, hiding her feet under a coffee table; somehow, and without warning, we seemed joined at the hip. The side of her body ran parallel to mine, although her knee bent later than mine.

"You get too comfortable," I supplied.

Her left arm rested on her thigh, mirroring my right. Her knuckles grazed my own.

"So, are you comfortable? Here, I mean," she said.

"...Sure."

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**E N D**

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**A/N: What do you think? I attempted a different style for this one, namely by doing a reflection on the relationship rather than capturing a scene. Also, funnily enough, this is written from Link's point of view! I write Samus' POV far too much (Perfect is done entirely from Samus' view) and thought tackling Link would be a welcome change for me and you. You'll notice he doesn't say very much!**

**The ending is a double meaning by the way, but I don't think I wrote it well. Samus asks if Link is comfortable in his new place i.e the Mansion, but obviously, sitting all nice and cosy with a pretty lady next to him gives it a new meaning entirely :)**

**I'm thinking of writing an AU after Perfect is finished, which stars Link and Samus, so this was a good exercise to write them. Whether I did okay is another thing entirely, of course…**

**As usual, comments are greatly appreciated. I'll admit that this isn't my best work, but it is my first attempt, so I'll blame that :) Thanks for reading!**


	3. Snake x Peach

**A/N: Oh yes, I am back with another chapter! I've discovered that these one shots are really hard to dish out. Still, here we are with Peach's one shot. I'm also a lameass writer when it comes to Snake, so if I besmirch his name, don't be surprised. Many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter, and hope you like this one.**

**For those who follow Perfect and/or If You Let Me, you'll notice that this is a very different take on Peach. So far, this collection of one shots has been quite light hearted, and I wanted to try out the 'stereotypical' Peach for once. **

**Another random side note is that Peach is the Director of the Mansion, exerting considerable authority over the place. If you're wondering why/how, my profile is your best bet. **

**Disclaimer: All characters and settings are copyright to Nintendo or Konami (if your name is Snake). Only the writing belongs to me :)**

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**F I F T E E N**

**P A I R I N G S:**

**.:. No. 5 – Rescue Me .:.**

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**o-o-SNAKE X PEACH-o-o**

If there's one thing Princess Peach prides herself on, it's her patience. While her esteemed stature boasts influence, authority and power, it's patience that sees her through.

The sight of Lucas snivelling yet again on the bottom step of the staircase doesn't annoy her; she isn't even fazed when she sees Bowser contemplating what sorry fate to administer to Fox's headset. She lifts her heavy load of papers higher on her hip and gets down to business.

"Cheer up," she says to Lucas, "it isn't the end of the world if you lose. Victory feels sweeter with loss."

"Thank you, Miss Peach," Lucas utters. She beams at him, politely gestures for Mr Game and Watch to move from her path and clears her throat.

"Good afternoon, Bowser." She winces from the ache at her side; a few seconds ago, these files were not so heavy. He turns his large head only an inch, deciding that that is all the attention she deserves. "Is that Fox's headset? I hope you're on your way to return it to him. I wouldn't want for you to break it and have to pay the repairs from your own wages."

Bowser snorts and a ring of smoke wafts past her. The mild threat works, as it so usually does on simple Bowser. "Fine," he grumbles, tossing the item angrily (but strategically so that it drops onto a landing armchair). "Am I allowed to get _any_ fun around here?"

"Master Hand has devised plenty of recreational activities. I daresay you haven't hit the tennis courts for a while."

"Actually, I've been meaning to complain about that." Bowser's left eyebrow twitches a little and Peach knows that his impending complaint is not as spontaneous as he likes to think it is. "It doesn't get advertised enough. Too much emphasis on the Smash matches! No one save for me, Wario and that fat penguin – eh…what's his name – goes to the courts—"

"I'll see if I can do something about it," she cuts in before Bowser really gets into his monologue. She doesn't bother to point out that others _do_ play tennis on a regular basis, and don't deserve to be excluded from Bowser's list of regulars simply because they beat him at the sport. She gestures to Fox's headset pointedly, sidesteps him and nudges a file straight with her arm. "Oh, and it's Dedede," she adds.

Peach crosses the hall and heads up the deserted staircase to the third floor. It's dimly lit, with only four bulbs out of six working and the picture window half covered by moth eaten curtains. Her office is at the end, the straight path embedded in the worn carpet like a fingerprint in dough.

The door doesn't budge. She presses her side to the handle and hugs the files. She tries again. Really, she wants to avoid putting these on the floor, because Master Hand will surely catch her at the right moment and use it as an opportunity to criticise. The top file slips a little and before she can shift her weight, it drops off.

She squeezes her eyes shut and waits for the awful sound of paper exploding, but it never comes. One eye opens, and Snake straightens, file in hand.

Peach, admittedly, is quite used to people – usually men – saving her in one way or another. Snake is a newcomer, and already he's done her favours and helped her out. Oftentimes, she feels guilty for the problems she causes, but she makes an effort to show her gratitude and thanks, even if it does not coincide with her haughty position as Mansion figurehead.

"Thank you!" she says brightly. "That's very kind of you."

"I just figured you needed rescuing."

Peach is definitely excelling in patience. The long running gag about her always needing saving is so renowned, even the solitary, aloof Snake is aware and joking about it. Peach used to be quite offended that people had little faith in her; by now, however, she appreciates that maybe, just maybe, she actually likes trusting her life in the hands of others.

It takes her a second to realise that Snake sounds gruffer than usual. Perhaps he's joking about the joke?

She sidles into her office and Snake follows, file in hand. She flicks on the light and relieves herself of her load as soon as possible.

"You're very kind, thank you." She reminds him of her gratitude, but Snake does not see this as a chance to leave. Instead, he glances around her office, arms gradually crossing over his chest, the single file sliding under a forearm. One foot taps out a slow rhythm, in sync with his thoughts. Peach can understand why many are wary around him; he's quite imposing and she doubts there's even a second when he isn't scrutinising or analysing. Master Hand was extremely unhappy to extend an invitation to Snake; according to her boss, "once a spy, always a spy", and he stands firm with his belief that Snake is here to see the Mansion end.

"It's like sticking a lit match to a house of cardboard," Master Hand had said, and while he isn't gifted when it comes to metaphors, Peach can understand him and his suspicion. After all, the Smash Brothers tournament is Master Hand's pride; and Peach too has strived to make the Mansion the leading place for warriors and heroes and villains alike – surely no one has their heart set on destroying it?

Besides, she decides resolutely, she knows how villains work and Snake does not have the qualities to match. He doesn't make her twice as mindful of her words as Bowser does when she talks to him. He doesn't make her heart pound with nerves the way an offhand mention of Ganondorf can. Snake isn't frightening, or scheming, or even wicked, he's nothing like that. He's just a spy who appears to be on duty a lot of the time.

The files wobble a little and she straightens them, trying to find some space in her office. "One of the downsides of being Director," she mutters, although it's a given that Snake is listening. "Master Hand can conjure a frightening amount of paperwork for the smallest of things."

"I was surprised when I found out you're the right hand to this place." Snake does not bother to hide his interest in the various papers on her desk. She is slightly worried, but she dismisses it – surely Snake can't read them when he's that far away _and_ the papers are upside down? There's confidential, groundbreaking information on Marth Lowell there. If Snake finds out that information, he'll get into a lot of trouble with Master Hand, and there's no doubt her boss will have time and enthusiasm to reprimand her too.

She goes for the most sensible of options. She leans on her desk and changes the subject. Her hands twitch a little, as she's never been fond of lecturing people.

"Oh, that reminds me. Erm, I've been asked by Master Hand to tell you—"

"Very strictly, no doubt," he says. He shows a ghost of a smile, and Peach wonders if she just imagined it. She returns it anyway.

"To tell you very strictly," she repeats, "to the point of making you cry, that the third floor – this floor – is off limits to Smashers at all times, unless you have a booked session with either Master Hand or myself."

"I should go then."

He smiles for sure this time, slipping out of sight. For a vague moment, Peach marvels at how well he can sneak up on her, always at the best of moments, and how whenever he leaves, the seconds seem so much longer. She wonders why she mirrors his confident pose when he talks, why she can smell cigarettes even when he isn't around.

Then, she works out why he smiled when he left. Quickly, tripping over the hem of her dress and skidding into the corridor, she shouts, "Wait! Snake!"

Sure enough, he sits in an armchair on the gallery that overlooks the staircase, file open in his lap. She snatches it and slams it shut, hiding every scrap of information it has on Wolf O'Donnell before he reads any more. The fact that several Smashers are conversing on the steps is the only thing that stops her from smacking him with the file.

"You _are_ a spy!" she hisses at him, angry (but more so upset) at the thought. "Master Hand has been right all along. You're here to shut us down…It explains the loitering around, why you're always on that radio—" she shakes the papers at him "—the need to read up on people! What do you have against this place? Why would you do such a thing?"

"Actually, I'm just bored." He has the nerve to shrug, getting up and proving to be a head taller than her. She falls into his shadow and for a second, she feels the safest she has ever been, stood here with only paper between her and him.

"…Bored?" She raises her eyebrows at him, hoping he will elaborate, as she can hardly bear the thought of him having ulterior, dark motives for being a Smasher.

"Recon and harmless curiosity aside, I don't do much," he answers. "There isn't a lot around here."

First Bowser, now Snake. The ends of her fingers feel static from her increasing annoyance, but it doesn't get the better of her. She has always had a good hold on her composure, putting poise and an admirable demeanour to suit a princess well before true emotions.

"Well, that is convenient." She gestures back to her office. "Let me just drop off Wolf's file, and I'll…take you to the tennis courts outside. Bowser has been complaining of the lack of new faces there, so we might as well ease his temper _and_ find you a hobby."

Peach has never had a problem with asking people to outings or for lunch. She's sociable and aims to integrate with everyone, only wary of a handful (including her boss); however, asking Snake to play tennis with her comes with a pinch of anxiety and the slightest trace of embarrassment. She uses her detour to her office as a chance to collect herself, and is pleasantly surprised that Snake is still waiting for her. A thoughtful look crosses his face as she joins him, and he asks her, "Isn't Bowser your resident kidnapper?"

She waves a hand and fights the urge to roll her eyes. Talk of her and Bowser has been done so many times. "Yes," she admits patiently, "but he's nice enough when he wants to be."

She pauses at the foot of the stairs at the hallway. Lucas is still there and to her dismay, he shows no sign of letting his match loss go. Then again, Peach reminds herself, he's lost a lot more than matches. She pats his head and offers him a smile, hoping that at some point soon, she will have the time to sit down with him and chat, even if it's just to reiterate what she said before.

The weather is bleak at best. The sky appears to be teetering on the edge, unsure whether the stormy clouds should have their way or not. The light wind tickles the back of her neck and she opens her palms to see if she can feel anything on them.

"Do you talk to Bowser a lot?" Snake asks next. Metal rings on his uniform clink in time with his steps; one end of his bandana slinks across her arm.

"I don't see why not," she answers truthfully. "He hasn't tried to kidnap me in a long while—"

"And he's always your first choice for team partner, even though he's generally disliked and calls you Fungus." He stops a few feet short of the courts, and the crisscross shadow of the metal railings mar his face. She's never realised, until now, that she has a habit of watching his mouth and studying his rough, stubbly cheeks as opposed to looking him in the eye. "You serve up dinner with the staff when you're not supposed to; you talk to R.O.B. even though you can't understand him. You refrain from talking about Smash matches and turn the conversation to something else. You fail to distinguish between heroes and villains, and overlook that we're only here to fight."

He means everything in earnest, but she struggles to form a response. She doesn't want to admit that she's uncertain whether he's paying her compliments, she has no confidence to tell him she's thrilled by his observance, and she certainly doesn't want to admit that she rather likes facial hair.

"You make people forget who they are." Slowly, Snake pushes the metal net of a door and it squeaks and groans. The three tennis courts line up neatly to create a vast space and an equally empty feeling in her stomach. The turf is dotted with the smallest splashes of rain, although Peach can't feel anything. "That's a good thing," he adds, but all of a sudden, she doesn't feel so good anymore.

The far tennis court is occupied by Marth and Dedede. By the looks of it, they are disagreeing about the score. Peach guesses that they have been arguing for some time now, as Marth is quite red in the face and Zelda is sat on the baseline, tennis gear aside, playing a game with Ivysaur.

Snake studies the group for a moment, yet he appears to have nothing to comment on. Some wayward tennis balls are lined up round the edges of the turf. He reaches for one with a foot, controlling it into swirls before kicking it up into his hand.

"The rackets are just over there." She points to a shed and decides that it'd be courteous for her to go and get them, considering this get together is her idea and she knows she's behaving awkwardly around him. He had complimented her, as subtly and as cryptically as many of his other odd remarks. Peach uses her time away from him as a chance to come up with some praise for him in return, but nothing springs to mind. Or more accurately, too much springs to mind and she can't decide what would be the best thing to say.

There is a lot to like about Snake, after all.

She picks out her favourite pink racket and chooses a standard one for him, pausing for a few seconds as she tries to pick a colour he'd appreciate. However, as she studies them in turn, fiddling with the throat of the rackets and drumming the string area, she realises Snake did not come all the way here to play tennis.

When she returns, she's not shocked to see him scanning the area and making mental notes of his surroundings. She feels like asking him what he's looking for but she knows there's little point in doing so. If Snake were a spy, he'd hardly admit it and reveal the tricks of his trade.

"Here you go."

She passes him his racket, but he doesn't take it. She falls into his giant shadow as he continues his muse, although Peach is quite convinced that he has been meaning to talk to her, the same way she has been meaning to stand with him, walk with him and just _look_ at him, without the Director's table in between. Not for the first time, she studies his untidy beard.

"So, here's a question," he says, and his attempt at spontaneity is far more successful than Bowser's. "Have you ever considered that it might be you who's doing the rescuing?"

Peach stares at him a fraction too long, losing grip on her smile when it's supposed to be rooted there. She loves compliments, she really does.

But why does he always sound so bitter when he talks?

He extends a hand. Peach nearly takes it, so close to acting on her suppressed desire to snatch him for herself and ease the troubled thoughts and the mechanic grimace away. She knows, though, that he's just motioning for the tennis racket, that really, he wants nothing to do with her. He throws the ball high and hits a powerful serve, although, whether intentional or not, the ball slams into the net.

"Just a thought," he finishes.

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**A/N: Seriously, I have no idea how to write Snake. I just go by research and how he behaves in Brawl. Apologies if I wrecked him. On the other hand, I'm quite pleased with Peach – it was quite refreshing to give her this lighter side to her personality, despite her unfortunate role as Master Hand's lackey and the typical damsel in distress. The general aim of this one shot, by the way, was to put a twist on the prompt 'Rescue me'. My first thought was to allocate this prompt to Peach, maybe even with Mario, but I didn't want to go for your cliché Peach story. Please let me know your thoughts on her characterisation because this is a draft for how he character will be in my next new story (which I am sooo excited about writing…).**

**Anyway, the general meaning I was trying to get across in this one shot was regarding Peach and a bit of role reversal. That maybe, as Snake suggests, she plays a bigger part in rescuing people with her kindness and selflessness. Up to you to decide if Snake's included in that cat. Also, it's left open regarding Snake being a spy or not. I deliberately made it ambiguous so as to add to the intrigue that is Solid Snake.**

**As usual, here's your chapterly reminder to review (do it I say!!). Comments are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!**


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